“Four brothers,” Daphne said, shoving the wicket into the ground, “provide quite a marvelous education.”
“The things you must have learned,” Kate said, quite impressed. “Can you give a man a black eye? Knock him to the ground?”
Daphne grinned wickedly. “Ask my husband.”
“Ask me what?” the duke called out from where he and Colin were placing a wicket on a tree root on the opposite side of the tree.
“Nothing,” the duchess called out innocently. “I’ve also learned,” she whispered to Kate, “when it’s best just to keep one’s mouth shut. Men are much easier to manage once you understand a few basic facts about their nature.”
“Which are?” Kate prompted.
Daphne leaned forward and whispered behind her cupped hand, “They’re not as smart as we are, they’re not as intuitive as we are, and they certainly don’t need to know about fifty percent of what we do.”
She looked around. “He didn’t hear that, did he?”
Simon stepped out from behind the tree. “Every word.”
Kate choked on a laugh as Daphne jumped a foot.
“But it’s true,” Daphne said archly.
Simon crossed his arms. “I’ll let you think so.” He turned to Kate. “I’ve learned a thing or two about women over the years.”
“Really?” Kate asked, fascinated.
He nodded and leaned in, as if imparting a grave state secret. “They’re much easier to manage if one allows them to believe that they are smarter and more intuitive than men. And,” he added with a superior glance at his wife, “our lives are much more peaceful if we pretend that we’re only aware of about fifty percent of what they do.”
Colin approached, swinging a mallet in a low arc. “Are they having a spat?” he asked Kate.
“A discussion,” Daphne corrected.
“God save me from such discussions,” Colin muttered.”
―
Julia Quinn,
The Viscount Who Loved Me
